HomeAboutArchiveMapWiki
Primary Temporal Position: 2305
Reset Temporal Position
The roof of the world peels open like celluloid under a blowtorch and the same nightmare of a creature crashes down into the tunnel in front of them.



Time around them corrodes, congeals, and begins to fragment. The two officers freeze, like rabbits in the path of a train. They might have lived, for a moment, but their Sargent is made of sterner stuff.

He raises his gun.